Death's Sweet Release
by lycanus1
Summary: Tristan remembers his lost love as he lies fatally wounded during the battle of Badon Hill. *WARNING: Rated due to strong language*


**Summary:** Tristan remembers his lost love as he lies fatally wounded during the battle of Badon Hill  
**Warning:** Character deaths, slash and some strong language  
**Comments & Reviews:** Positive comments welcomed  
**Disclaimer:** Despite promising them a good and loving home, the boys - and the dialogue for the Ice Lake scene - _still_ unfortunately belong to Jerry Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures.

_**XXXXXXXXX**_

**Death's Sweet Release**

_BADON HILL _

The end when it finally came, was quick, yet not without pain. It burned ... Burned fiercely ...

The dao slashed deeply through the armour, like a knife through soft butter, severing into the taut muscles of his back. He felt the swift, caustic withdrawal of the lethal blade before his body was suddenly and without ceremony, dropped onto the cold, muddy ground and the back of his head struck the trampled earth - hard.

A shuddering sigh escaped Tristan's lips, and in his rapidly weakening state he realized he'd fought his last battle. Fought hard, cleanly and skilfully, with both courage and integrity. But the huge Saxon had finally succeeded where many had failed. He'd worn down the bloodthirsty Scout; had shattered his defences and fought without honour. As he lay broken and bleeding profusely on the ground, with his life force slowly draining away from him, all the Aorsi could think of was the tragic loss he'd suffered a few weeks earlier.

The loss of his lover. It had left him truly devastated.

Dagonet had been so much more than someone who'd merely kept his bed warm at night. The shy Roxolani Healer had been his brother, advisor, confidante and above all, best friend. He'd been Tristan's rock; the one who kept him sane and calmed the raging beast within the Scout and made him forget his bloodlust and the urge to fight and kill. Dagonet had been his salvation; the heaven to his hell. The older knight had been his soulmate. And now, without him, the Aorsi's life no longer had purpose or meaning ...

Gazing up through the smoke at the clear blue sky beyond it, Tristan saw his beloved hawk circling overhead. His mind began to wonder hazily, until he came to the heartbreaking memory of that fateful day on the ice lake ...

_**XXXXX**_

All six of the remaining Sarmatian knights, along with their commander, Artorius Castus, stood outnumbered facing an advancing Saxon army on the frozen lake. The Saxon drums sounded very close and the knights exchanged concerned looks, as they waited for Arthur to speak.

" Knights ... " Arthur began, only to be interrupted by a weary, cynical and impatient Bors.

" Well, I'm tired of running. And these Saxons are so close behind, my arse is hurting. "

Tristan's golden eyes met and held Dagonet's silvery-grey across the ice. His manner was quiet and calm, yet his voice when he spoke was huskier than usual, " Never liked looking over my shoulder anyway. "

Dagonet grinned, his eyes softening with tenderness as he watched the Scout, whilst half-listening to Gawain's comment of, " It'll be a pleasure to put an end to this racket . " The blond, dread-locked Halani turned to look at his fellow clansman and shieldmate, Galahad. The dark-haired, impetuous youngster appeared grimly determined.

" We'll finally get a look at the bastards, " Galahad said passionately, his dark eyes flashing brilliantly. Dagonet had begun to move and announced with a quiet, lethal intent, " Here ... Now ... "

Lancelot, unusually, had remained silent and sadly shook his darkly handsome head, having felt a sense of foreboding in the air. The other knights began to unload their weapons onto the ice and bided their time. They did not have long to wait ...

" Hold until I give the command, " Arthur announced looking straight ahead at the advancing army. He watched a Saxon archer shoot an arrow. It was well out of range and failed to come close to any of his knights. " I believe they're waiting for an invitation, " he added smugly, " Bors. Tristan. "

Both men fired their arrows and their aim was true. The other four knights drew their bows and waited patiently for the order to fire.

" Aim for the wings of the ranks, " Arthur yelled, " make them cluster. "

The knights began to steadily and unerringly unleash their arrows, which, as Arthur predicted, made the enemy cluster upon the ice. But as Arthur carefully studied the opposition, he realized something vitally important. " It's not going to crack. Fall back ! _Fall back ! _" He unsheathed his sword and looked steadily at his men. " Prepare for combat. "

Tristan saw Dagonet reach for his trusty broadsword and for some inexplicable reason began to feel uneasy as the others selected their weapons of choice and prepared for battle.

The Healer was decidedly on edge. Suddenly, he dropped the large sword which he'd favoured, and grabbed his largest battleaxe. Without warning and to Bors' extreme horror, Dagonet gave a furious roar and charged forwards.

" _Da-ag ! _" Bors yelled, panic-stricken. Arthur, meanwhile, kept his head and shouted at the others to cover the sprinting Healer, who had now stopped and was savagely hacking at the ice, as his fellow Sarmatians defended him. As more of the Saxons fell beneath the onslaught of arrows, the ice finally started to crack.

By then, the enemy had begun to retaliate and were desperately aiming for the tall Roxolani, and for the first time in his life, Tristan felt genuine fear.  
Dread which grabbed him by the the throat; an immense, agonizing fear that tore at his chest and crushed his frantically beating heart. It was then he heard Bors' anguished cry and for a brief moment, he was convinced that his own heart had stopped beating.

" Dag ! "

Arthur immediately dropped his weapons and began to run towards Dagonet, who'd suddenly been struck by an arrow in his left flank. Another arrow pierced the powerful knight's side, and Tristan felt the blood drain from his face. Then just as swiftly, he regained his composure and began to shoot his arrows in rapid succession, with deadly precision.  
Gawain briefly glanced at the Scout as he nocked another arrow to his bow and was shocked by the momentary glimpse of fear, distress and pain he saw in the Aorsi's face. It was then he realized Tristan's heart was breaking.

The Scout's noble face was ashen and his striking honey-gold eyes, which had sparkled with warmth and humour over the past few months, were now cold and dead. Gawain grieved at the sight of his friend consumed by bloodlust and revenge, and feared that they would not be able to control him now that his rage was unleashed.

The Saxons were now falling helplessly into the dark, icy depths of the lake, when Dagonet himself - through loss of blood - began to lose consciousness and sank through the cracked ice into the freezing water. Arthur swiftly slid across the surface and grabbed his injured Healer by the shoulders and hung on to him for dear life.

It was enough to spur Bors, who had been paralyzed by fear for his young cousin, into action. He grabbed a shield and for a large man, began to run at speed to his fallen kinsman and his leader.

" Dag ! " Anxiety could be clearly heard in the burly knight's loud, gruff voice, as he shielded Arthur, who valiantly hauled the younger man out of the murky water. Lancelot was now gravely worried and shouted for them to pull back. All the while, he and the other knights continued to fire arrows at the dwindling opposition.

Bors and Arthur began to drag the comatose Sarmatian back towards their comrades and were now coming under a lot of enemy fire.

" Help us ! " Bors yelled frantically, noting how tired Arthur appeared and how deathly pale Dagonet looked.

Before anyone could prevent him, Tristan had dropped his precious bow onto the ice and was sprinting gracefully and swiftly across the surface to their aid, closely followed by a worried Gawain.

Bors was on his knees by the time both knights reached them, tenderly cradling his cousin's head in his lap, pleading tearfully with the younger man.

" _Dagonet ! _Stay with me ! _DAGONET ! Stay with me ! _"

The Scout had run flat out and dropped, panting, to his knees, sliding on the slippery surface until he was beside Bors, pushing a stunned, bewildered Arthur out of the way. Gawain exchanged a look with Bors, who wordlessly relinquished his hold on his injured cousin to the clearly distressed Aorsi. Tristan tenderly cradled his lover, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow shafts.

" You stupid, fucking bastard ... _Why ? _Why did you do it ? " Tristan asked with quiet ferocity, gently caressing Dagonet's cheek, " For the love of the gods, Dag, you're the sensible one. The intelligent one. In the fifteen years we've known each other, I've never seen you do something so bloody stupid and damn reckless. " Tristan paused, his chest heaving erratically and his hand visibly shook as it cupped the Roxolani's cold, pale face. " You _can't_ do this to me, Dag. D'ya hear me ? Stay with _me_ ...Please, I'll beg if I have to. Just ... just don't leave me ... You're all I have, I _can't_ lose you, damnit ! " Tristan's voice broke and a single tear trickled down his cheek only to fall on Dagonet's blue-tinged lips.

" I won't fucking lose you, it would kill me. You keep me sane, Dag. For mercy's sake, I _need_ you to pull through ... " The Scout howled in pure anguish, which had the other three knights looking worriedly at him and fearing what he might do, especially when he finally realized Dagonet's wounds were mortal.

Strangely, it was Bors who took the initiative. Seeing the aloof Scout so vulnerable and distraught had moved him greatly.

" Tristan, lad, it's no use, " Bors spoke gently and rested a large, comforting hand on the slighter man's shoulder. A shudder racked the Aorsi's lean, tautly muscled body and he raised a ravaged, heartbroken face to meet the older Roxolani's sad, honest gaze. " Dag's gone, lad ... "

Tristan shook his head in fierce denial. " No, Bors, he _can't_ be. Dag wouldn't leave me - not now - "

" Tris- "

" _NO ! _" The Aorsi had a feral gleam in his beautiful eyes. Desperation made him deny what he knew deep down to be the truth.

" Tristan, wait, " Arthur began cautiously, only for the Scout - to everyone's astonishment and horror - to glare balefully at him before replying with burning contempt.

" _This_ is all _your_ fault, Arthur. If you'd bothered to listen for once, this could have been avoided. Dag would still be here, with us ... with _ME ! _You care more for complete strangers and your fucking Rome than you do for your own men ! I don't blame the Saxons for Dag's death - I blame you ... _YOU ! _" Grief-stricken, he turned away and cradled his lover's cold, lifeless body tightly in his arms and rocked him gently, before tenderly kissing the scar which ran down from the dead man's left temple.

_**XXXXX**_

_BADON HILL_

He was cold ... oh, so cold now. All sensation had gone, leaving nothing but an empty feeling. A void ...

Blood rose from his chest cavity, up his rapidly constricting throat and pooled in his mouth. Its taste was acrid, metallic almost, and made him want to gag. Some of the crimson fluid seeped past his lips and slowly trickled into his neat, greying beard, staining and matting it.

It wasn't the dying he minded, he mused, after all his passing was an honourable one. He'd upheld the tradition of his tribe, the Aorsi, of bravely dying in combat. There was no shame in dying in battle, only honour and glory. No, what rankled was the fact that the Saxon leader had mortally wounded him with his own sword - his precious, deadly, elegant dao ... Dagonet would have been far from happy had he lived to see that. Tristan gave a faint smirk at the thought, knowing his lover would have reproached him gently for allowing such a thing to happen.

Everything was becoming darker now and all he could hear around him was an eerie silence; then with a sharp, rattling gasp he drew his last breath, safe in the knowledge he would soon be with Dagonet, his soulmate ... his love, once more. Only this time they would both be free - for eternity ...

Overhead, gliding against the clear blue sky, a solitary hawk, grieving for its master, gave a mournful cry.

**Finis**


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